PLAYING FOR KEEPS
by Firefly Rogue
Summary: SLASH. Tale of intrigue, adventure, and romance that will change two lives forever.
1. Default Chapter

Title: Playing For Keeps  
  
Author: Firefly  
  
Rating: PG-13 for now (violence and sexual situations); probably be upgraded to R later  
  
Category: Pirates of the Caribbean  
  
Pairing: Sparrow/Turner  
  
Feedback: The more the better. . .tis the spice of life  
  
Summary: (POTC Slash) Jack stumbles upon a truth and must decide if it is indeed worth fighting for in light of obstacles threatening to test even the most courageous. Slightly AU, set after events depicted in the movie. Angst/Adventure/Romance (some humor).  
  
Warnings: This is SLASH so if that bothers anyone please don't read on. . . my intention is not to offend anyone by what may appear in this fic. YOU'VE BEEN FOREWARNED. Also, artistic license will be evoked at whim.  
  
Disclaimer: Don't own any of these characters, which are the sole property of Disney and Jerry Bruckheimer Films. Totally a figment of imagination in which no harm is intended.  
  
Author's Notes: First chapter basically sets the stage. OC's will pop up to make their presence known.  
  
PLAYING FOR KEEPS  
  
CHAPTER ONE  
  
Dropping anchor in the deeper blue waters surrounding the harbor of Basse- Terre, the crew of the Black Pearl prepared to put to port in order to re- supply their diminishing provisions after long months at sea. Months that had yielded riches in treasure and tales of grand adventure, earning Jack Sparrow a well-deserved respite.  
  
As the skiffs approached the bustle of activity upon the pier, Jack watched the tropical paradise just beyond with a small grin. Sunlight sliced through palm fronds, creating dancing shadows upon the sparkling water. Exotic flowers sprinkled the lush green of rolling hills with riots of color and the shadowed outline of simple clapboard structures stood regal against the backdrop of mountains overlooking the harbor.  
  
A playing field of opportunity for a man looking for a good time, which most definitely characterized his intentions.  
  
Climbing up onto the wooden planks, he tossed his satchel over his shoulder and turned back to give his first-mate, Gibbs, a hand, pulling him up. Propping his hands on his hips, Jack peered through the crowd impatiently, wondering where the nearest bottle of rum was lying in wait.  
  
"I trust I can leave the stockin' to you and Duncan," the captain replied heartily as he resisted the urge to rub his hands together in anticipation. "Seein' as I have official business to see to and all," he added, waving a hand absently.  
  
"Official, Cap'n?" Gibbs drawled with a smirk.  
  
"Aye, *lots* of official business, so I best get at it, mate. Meet back at the docks in two days time. . . midday," Jack ordered as he sauntered away. Suddenly, he turned back, tottering slightly upon his sea legs, "And, Good God, man, don't forget the rum!"  
  
That important detail being seen to, the elated pirate made his way to the street to explore the town and its possibilities. As he headed towards what suspiciously appeared to be indeed a tavern, a quick glance to his left stopped him in his tracks and quickened his breaths.  
  
Twenty yards away, staring distractedly towards the turquoise ocean water, stood Will Turner. The very same young man that haunted his dreams and too many of his waking moments. Visions of sinfully dark eyes that morphed into onyx pools with desire. An endless expanse of smooth skin that he yearned to map with his calloused fingers. A lithe body he hungered to have writhing beneath him, his name spoken in passion tumbling from full, succulent lips swollen from his kiss.  
  
He had not seen Will since the day the lad had surprised him and had come to his rescue. His last sight of the boy one with the Swann lass in his arms. That had been nigh eight months ago.  
  
Although, he had yet to sail into Port Royal since, Jack had made an effort to keep a breast of town happenings whenever possible. He knew the Governor's daughter had realized life with a penniless blacksmith was akin to the gravest of mistakes and had renounced Will's love, turning instead to an influential match with Commodore Norrington. He knew the two had been married shortly thereafter, leaving the young blacksmith heartbroken.not to mention available.  
  
Yet, Jack had not heard word that Will had left Port Royal and his worthless employer's forge for these eastern waters.  
  
The captain had instantly recognized his attraction to the striking young man but had managed to keep his lust hidden within Will's presence for no other reason than his numbing fear of the lad's rejection. He may have been Captain Jack Sparrow; yet, matters of the heart still terrified him, and knowing that he felt more than desire for Will Turner effectively kept his mouth shut and his Black Pearl at sail.  
  
He longed to possess Will in every way imaginable, claim him as a zealous conqueror would a stretch of land. And while Jack was well-versed in the art of seduction, the notion of a *relationship* was completely foreign territory. He had always kept his entanglements blissfully short, merely a night or two of meaningless lust, and then a quick farewell.  
  
Did he really wish to alter his habits? For the son of a former member of his crew?  
  
Watching the sea breeze rustle the silky curls about the finely sculpted features of Bootstrap Bill's son, Jack unmistakably knew the answer to that question. He wanted this young man in his arms for more than a few days. . . in fact when he captured Will's heart, he had no intention of letting it go.  
  
Expelling a pent-up breath, Jack schooled his expression into one of mild disinterest and swaggered sensually towards the unsuspecting blacksmith until he leaned slightly over Will's shoulder.  
  
"Excuse me there. . . I happen to be lookin' for a blacksmith's skill. Might you know of one?"  
  
Startled out of his trance, Will spun around, the confusion evident in his eyes transforming slowly into utter astonishment. Unconsciously licking his lips, he whispered in disbelief, "J-Jack?"  
  
Grinning sardonically, the pirate carefully looked himself over before drawing his gaze back to the younger man's widened eyes, "Last time I checked."  
  
"You're. . .*here*," Will murmured, half-convinced the man standing before him was no more than an illusion conjured from his memories.  
  
"Noticed that, did you?" Jack answered bemusedly. Tilting his head slightly and crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned closer, "I see your powers of observation are as keen as ever, lad."  
  
"How? W-why?"  
  
"When?" Jack added with a raised brow, immensely enjoying the blush that tinged the boy's cheeks. However after a few moments of terse silence, the captain wished to set Will more at ease so adopted his most dramatic tone, "Well you know even we unruly pirates take a reprieve in our plunderin' and evil ways from time to time to mingle with the proper law-abiding citizens. All that ransackin' takes a bit of a toll on a bloke, especially when all the ship's blasted grog has gone and dried up as would a well in a damned desert."  
  
Draping an arm companionably about Will's tense shoulders, he winked conspiratorially before adding matter-of-factly, "But tis a good thing.otherwise, who would free all these poor folk from their boredom? We provide a most invaluable service. Now, the real question is what are *you* doin' here?"  
  
Will quickly glanced away, his face stoic. "Working."  
  
Jack seemingly pondered this curt response, watching as the lad drew further within himself, pulling just out of his reach. "Ah. . .aye, so you are. Right. 'Cept Basse-Terre is a long way from ole Port Royal, wouldn't you say?"  
  
Will remained silent, staring forward sullenly.  
  
"Business was slow, eh?"  
  
"There was nothing for me in Port Royal."  
  
Jack winced slightly from the bitter despair lacing that softly-spoken statement, knowing exactly from whence that well of resentment sprung, not sure whether he wished to thank Elizabeth for her decision or cursing her arrogance which had so deeply wounded this pure soul. "So, Basse-Terre more to your liking?"  
  
"Have no complaints."  
  
Resisting the urge to snort at that obvious lie, Jack clasped his hands behind his back and rocked back on his heels, "That so?"  
  
"*Yes*, that's so," the young blacksmith snapped, shooting Jack a scowl over his shoulder.  
  
Smoothing his index finger over his mustache, Jack finally nodded, having no desire to push Will further, considering another craving had taken precedence. "Well then, guess that's settled, mate. Now seein' as you're familiar with this lovely town, why not lead the way to some good brew and see what trouble we can manage," he suggested, leaving little room for argument.  
  
As he followed alongside the reluctant lad, Jack watched him surreptitiously from the corner of his eye, wondering how to break through the barriers Will had constructed around himself and what would be revealed when he succeeded.  
  
The Captain of the Black Pearl had no intention of failing with the stakes so high. For, this time he was gambling with his heart.  
  
TBC. . . 


	2. Chapter Two

Title: Playing For Keeps  
  
Author: Firefly  
  
Rating: PG-13 for now (violence and sexual situations); will be upgraded to R later  
  
Category: Pirates of the Caribbean  
  
Pairing: Sparrow/Turner  
  
Feedback: The more the better. . .tis the spice of life  
  
Summary: (POTC Slash) Jack stumbles upon a truth and must decide if it is indeed worth fighting for in light of obstacles threatening to test even the most courageous. Slightly AU, set after events depicted in the movie. Angst/Adventure/Romance (some humor). Also, dark themes ahead.  
  
Warnings: This is SLASH so if that bothers anyone please don't read on. . . my intention is not to offend anyone by what may appear in this fic. YOU'VE BEEN FOREWARNED. Also, artistic license will be evoked at whim.  
  
Disclaimer: Don't own any of these characters, which are the sole property of Disney and Jerry Bruckheimer Films. Totally a figment of imagination in which no harm is intended.  
  
Author's Notes: This chapter again is part of setting the stage. OC's will pop up to make their presence known. Also, just a few answers to a couple of questions: Basse-Terre is indeed a real place, capital of the Carribean island, Guadeloupe. Just to be clear, I will be twisting actual historical events about to work into POTC timeline (cultural aspects will have truth behind them but are and will be subject to exaggeration) I will absolutely try to keep Jack and Will as in character as possible (as well as AnnaMaria who will have her part to play in this shindig). . . all suggestions for improvements are appreciated.  
  
THANK YOU for all the lovely reviews!!! I will have to do my best to keep this as entertaining as possible. Eeep!  
  
PLAYING FOR KEEPS  
  
CHAPTER TWO  
  
"You want to slow down there?" Jack asked dubiously as he watched the empty mugs accumulate before the young man at an alarming rate, even by his standards. He watched Will raise incredulous eyes to his, a sneer crossing the young man's lips. Truth be told, even Jack felt more than a little hypocritical by his words.  
  
But it would seem while dodging danger and rolling about in treasure, his subconscious had further developed a protective streak where this boy was concerned. It defied all reason.  
  
"This advice comin' from you?" Another mug was drained with brazenness.  
  
"Yes, well. . . a man should know how to hold his drink," the pirate retorted as Will swayed precariously from his side of the bench, a glazed expression enveloping the normally bright, russet eyes.  
  
Putting forth his best glare, the blacksmith shakily pointed an accusing finger towards Jack, his words becoming slurred. "So what's your bloody excuse, then? You're always stumbling about like a mad fish out of water. And. . . and. . . always talking about your bloody precious rum and can't ev - "  
  
"At least I'm not falling on my ass, eh there, mate?" Jack was all too happy to point out to the disoriented man now sprawled upon the wooden floor. Sighing dramatically, the captain rose and then held a hand out to lift Will to his feet. He quickly wrapped a steadying arm about the boy before he had a chance to topple in an ungraceful heap.  
  
"You're goin' have the devil to pay. Now, don't you wish you had heeded my warnin'?  
  
Will grimaced, clutching a shaky hand to his aching temple. "Ugh. . . the room is spinning," he groaned as a wave of nausea washed over him.  
  
Snickering, Jack started to lead the young man outside, flinching when the sunlight accosted them unmercifully. "I'll just bet it is. That's one hell of a bloody headache comin' to you, whelp," he informed cheerfully.  
  
Will tried to glower, but the action proved not worth the effort as it was a challenge just to put one foot in front of the other.  
  
"So tell me, lad. . . which way might your home be?"  
  
Raising his head with difficulty, the blacksmith waved vaguely in no particular direction before mumbling, "That way."  
  
Mimicking the young man's motion, Jack replied sweetly, with a healthy dose of sarcasm, "Oh, yes. . . that way, eh? Care to be more specific?"  
  
Will simply shrugged and went back to holding his head, soft curses leaving his lips.  
  
Rolling his eyes heavenward, the pirate began forward unsteadily, half carrying the boy, as he searched for signs of a smithy, or at least a soul who could point him in the right direction. This of course proved easier said than done as the townsfolk rushed by without so much as meeting his shadowed gaze, completely ignoring his raised finger and charming smile.  
  
"Hmm. . . well, Will Turner, we sure would seem to be makin' headway here. Yes indeed. . . such delightful hospitality," he grumbled with a hint of a frown. When Jack got no response from his inebriated charge, he looked down to discover Will had promptly gone and passed out on him, the captain's hold the only thing saving Will from falling face-first right in the middle of the town square. Shaking his head, he smiled ruefully, "I'm goin' have to teach you a thing or two, I see."  
  
"Masta Will!"  
  
Wobbling slightly, Jack turned to see two young children, a boy and girl, darting through the late afternoon throng, narrowly missing a collision with a merchant towing a cart of sugarcane in their haste. Upon reaching the pirate, the boy drew back his shoulders, his eyes flickering from Jack to Will and back again; his sister hiding behind her brother's back, occasionally peering over his shoulder.  
  
Tilting his head, the mulatto boy spoke in heavily-accented English, "Masta Will sick?"  
  
Awkwardly pulling the blacksmith into a more upright position, Jack grinned winningly, a hint of gold glinting in the sunlight. "Why Master Will is simply tuckered out. Be needin' a nap 'tis all."  
  
"Whose you be?" the little girl asked as she nibbled on a finger, her hazel eyes wide as she watched beads and gold jewelry dance when the pirate swayed.  
  
"I would be an old mate of Mr. Turner here. Captain Jack Sparrow at your service," he announced, brandishing his arm with a flourish and nearly dropping Will in the process. "And who might you little sea urchins be?"  
  
"Name's Djo," the boy answered, then pointed to his sister, "sista is Yanira."  
  
"You know Mr. Turner well, do you?"  
  
Staring back at the pirate for several long moments, Djo finally nodded, "Will make s-sword for papa's Masta. He is friend."  
  
"Make us horseshoe," Yanira enunciated slowly, a small smile curling the corner of her lips.  
  
"Did he now?" Jack asked, giving Yanira a conspiratorial wink. "Well then. . . perhaps you can help me get Mr. Turner here home. You know the way?"  
  
Yanira nodded enthusiastically, turning around and pulling her brother's hand. Djo waved for Jack to follow. The captain grinned at this stroke of luck and tagged after the children. It wasn't long before he was muttering about Will's increasing weight and the swift feet of the young as he wandered along a number of labyrinthine side streets he was almost sure he had seen Djo and Yanira turn down.  
  
The siblings backtracked, Djo shouting down the alley, "Cap'n Jack. . . this way!"  
  
"The little mites are as quick as bloody rabbits, and you, luv, are beginnin' to feel like a sack of bricks," he huffed softly, exasperatedly blowing a wayward lock of hair from his face. Yet, as much as his muscles were protesting the exertion, the rest of the pirate absolutely delighted in the feel of Will so close. He could smell the scent of bergamot and sandalwood emanating from the sleek, chestnut curls and a virile aroma wholly Will stemming from the boy's warm flesh.  
  
It was tantalizing yet comforting all at the same time, surrounding him like a tailor-made glove. And Jack couldn't help but feel this young man was the missing piece to complete the puzzle of his future.  
  
The man who belonged to both land and sea, belonged first and foremost to Captain Jack Sparrow.  
  
He only had to convince Will of the same.  
  
"Masta Jack. . . here be home," Yanira affirmed shyly, pointing to the side.  
  
Jack shook himself from his musings and glanced in the direction indicated. He saw wisps of smoke rising from a building overlooking the sea, a collection of grand palms and pine lining the structure on its eastern side.  
  
"Ah. . . so it is. Excellent," he started forward but was stopped by Djo's voice.  
  
"We go now. . . work to still do. You sure Masta Will no sick?"  
  
"He'll be right as rain, lad, or I'm not Captain Jack Sparrow."  
  
Djo nodded as if the avowal meant something, although the accounts of the pirate's notoriety were unknown to him, "We see Masta Will when can. Bonswa, Cap'n Jack." Clutching his sister's hand, the pair soon disappeared around a corner.  
  
Jack, after disposing of the padlock upon the front doors, carried his cargo inside. The workshop actually had a smaller room towards the back, which he soon discovered was Will's living quarters. Seeing a cot in a corner, he gratefully deposited the young man upon the patterned quilt and drew back, rubbing at a particularly sore muscle in his upper arm.  
  
Even in sleep, Will's brow furrowed whilst he curled his arms protectively about himself as if to ward off demons that pursued him in his dreams. The bronzed skin of his cheek was almost ashen, the flawless flesh marred by a streak of soot. His full lips were as unnaturally dark as a fresh bruise.  
  
Jack removed the boy's boots and pulled the blanket from under his body, tucking it securely around him. Unable to resist temptation, the pirate trailed his fingertips across the soft cheekbone, down over the strong jaw. His own skin felt as if it had been branded by the simple touch, igniting a fiery web of longing in his blood.  
  
"Sweet damnation," he murmured under his breath, his tongue wetting his suddenly parched lips.  
  
Hesitantly, he brushed his thumb over Will's bottom lip, lost in imaginings of kissing that mouth. The contact caused the young man to groan softly, and Jack snatched his hand back quickly when the moist tip of Will's tongue ghosted over his finger. He watched as the blacksmith fidgeted before settling down again in deep slumber.  
  
Straightening, Jack swallowed against the lump in his throat and the need sweeping through his gut like a heady wine, irresistible, so sinfully decadent. . . the feel of Will's tongue upon his skin so erotic, intimate. . .  
  
He ran a hand down his face, wishing he could as easily wipe away his rampaging thoughts. The captain could almost swear he could count his heartbeats in his cock under the force of blood rushing to his groin. Irritated with Will for no better reason than he turned him on and didn't even know it, Jack scrunched his nose and turned to focus his attention elsewhere, in hopes that the pressure in certain parts of his anatomy would subside to a bearable ache.  
  
He just needed to think of something other than Will and that mouth of his. . .  
  
The room was small, but rather tidy, had it not been for a desk overflowing with haphazardly placed books and scrolls. Curiosity getting the better of him, he sifted through the collection, discovering a wide range of works. There were manuscripts on philosophy, history, poetry, geography, even several ones on maritime law. Selecting a book resting on top of an ill- constructed stack, he flipped through the well-worn pages, each creased with care, faint smudges of dirt from the blacksmith's fingers lingering behind.  
  
Obviously, Will had a love of the written word, a fact he had never noticed in the elder William. 'Eh. . . a literate pirate,' he thought. 'Stranger things have come about.' Jack could picture the young man, book in hand, brow deliciously lined in concentration as his eyes drank in the information before him, limber fingers turning and smoothing down each page.  
  
This apparent obsession was just another distinction that set his Will apart.  
  
HIS Will. . . the captain liked the sound of that.  
  
Peering around another stack, Jack was surprised to find pieces of parchment, charcoal sketches upon them. Quite good, in fact. The top drawing depicted the graceful lines of a ship's hull, sails unfurled to capture the wind. Sorting through several others, his hand stopped on one in particular. He tilted his head this way and that but the image was still the same. A sketch of him. Hat and all.  
  
So the lad had thought of him during the past months. It was said, after all, that absence did indeed make the heart grow fonder. A rakish smile transformed the pirate's face into one of absolute smugness that would have rivaled ole Christopher Columbus himself upon his discovery of this brave new world.  
  
To win the boy's affections might not be so difficult after all. Once he whipped out the charm, Will would be as good as his.  
  
Collapsing into a chair, Jack propped his feet onto a corner of the desk, miraculously managing to knock nothing to the floor in the process. He crossed his ankles and slumped into a somewhat comfortable position, his eyes trained on the sleeping figure across the way. Slowly, a frown materialized and his gaze darkened dangerously.  
  
The longer he stared, the more convinced he became that more than wounded pride and a broken heart afflicted young William Turner. Something else was wrong and he couldn't help but feel that if he just thought harder, looked deeper, the answer would present itself from the shadows in which it hid.  
  
Unable to sit still any longer, the pirate lurched to his feet. . . but he soon discovered that he couldn't stand still, either, so he paced. But here and there, the floorboards squeaked noisily and grated on his nerves, so he sat back down again, flinging his arm across the back of the chair and stretching his legs out before him. With his other hand, he stroked his goatee distractedly as the wheels in his head spun from one likely scenario to another.  
  
Softly, he begun to sing under his breath as the minutes ticked away.  
  
"Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me. . . "  
  
Eventually, he slept.  
  
*~*~**~*~*  
  
Will awoke to the soothing rustle of the sea breeze wafting through the room's window. Opening his eyes slowly, he blinked drowsily as his gaze adjusted to the soft glow of light from the lantern upon the table as it cast comforting crimson shadows about him. Despite the muted light, he could distinguish shapes and forms. He was in his home.  
  
He could not remember how he had ended back in his room, didn't even recall it having been night. For a moment, his vision blurred as the world tilted off its axis. But then it began crashing down into place with the blistering pain cracking his skull in two.  
  
The tavern. The liquor snaking a burning path down his throat. The smirk upon Jack's face.  
  
*Jack!*  
  
Will swung his legs over the edge of his cot and vaulted to his feet, only to immediately crumple as his head swam precariously. He groaned in anguish.  
  
The sound had Jack springing to his feet in a defensive stance, bloodshot eyes blinking dazedly. Focusing on the source of the commotion, the captain swayed as he scratched his head and smacked his lips.  
  
"Ah, Will. I see you're awake."  
  
Will grimaced and leaned forward, holding his head between his hands. "Unfortunately," he rasped. "I feel like death reborn."  
  
"Sounds highly enjoyable, mate," the captain replied without much compassion as he breached the distance between them and fell down beside Will, propping his arm on his bent knee.  
  
"This is entirely your fault."  
  
"Mine?" Jack asked flabbergasted, hand upon chest and eyes wide.  
  
"Yes, yours. If you hadn't insisted we find some *good brew* then I wouldn't have this splitting headache now. So obviously, this mess is *your* doing," the blacksmith muttered with a scowl.  
  
"Hardly seems fair. . . " the pirate commented with a slight pout as he nonchalantly studied his splayed fingers.  
  
"And just what *are* you doing here, Jack?"  
  
"Well someone had to carry your drunken self back here, and I might add that - "  
  
"Not *here*, here. Here, as in Basse-Terre. What are you doing here of all places?" the young man posed exasperatedly, still confused how this man had simply waltzed back into his life.  
  
"The usual of course. Pillagin' and plunderin'." He leaned closer, his tone sing-song, "Yo ho. . ."  
  
Will simply glared at the madly grinning captain.  
  
With a sigh, Jack swept his hand outward, "A ship doesn't simply take care of her self, lad. When the time comes for it, we have to put to port for supplies. . . for the crew and the Pearl. Just so happens, this was that harbor. Savvy?"  
  
Grimacing as another bout of nausea flittered about in the pit of his stomach, Will wiped a hand across his brow. "Was rather surprised, you showing up like that."  
  
"No more than me, lad. No more than me. Now, you mind tellin' me how you ended up here on this little slice of paradise?" the pirate asked with an unreadable expression.  
  
"I told you."  
  
"No, not really. You said there was nothin' left for you in Port Royal *but* you failed to give any specific whys," Jack pointed out with quick jabs of his finger.  
  
For long minutes, the young man said nothing, his jaw clenching and unclenching reflexively. Just when the captain thought for sure the boy wouldn't answer, a soft confession was issued. Course, a confession he already knew, but that was merely semantics.  
  
"Miss Swann had a change of heart."  
  
"Change of heart, you say?"  
  
"Aye, Commodore Norrington's proposal became more to her liking," Will murmured, trying to keep his voice level and collected.  
  
"Aye, so your bonny lass kept to her initial promise, eh?"  
  
"She is not my lass, Jack, and, yes, she kept that promise."  
  
"So, Miz Swann takes the Commodore's hand and you. . . " Jack waved a hand absently, fishing for the missing pieces he knew not.  
  
"When Elizabeth made her choice, I just wanted to escape from the pitying looks, from the anger that consumed me. So I packed a few belongings with just that in mind. There happened to be a merchant ship docked in Port Royal, ready to set sail that day. I offered my skills as a blacksmith for passage, not caring where we would be heading as long as I could see no sign of Elizabeth in the distance. The captain said his destination was Basse-Terre for a shipment of sugar he was transporting back to the mainland. Sounded perfect to me. When the ship reached port, I stayed."  
  
"Just like that?" the pirate arched a brow.  
  
"Yes, just like that. I wanted a new life, and this place was as good as any." With the chemical heat of adrenaline sliding into his blood with his growing temper, Will managed to stand and keep his feet under him much to his relief. The pirate had the innate ability to ease himself under his skin, to say just the right thing to make his irritation blossom, to simply throw him off balance, in more ways than one.  
  
"So you trade one misery for another? That your plan?" the captain inquired with a look of idle bemusement, hands now propped behind his head.  
  
"I'm happy here. Can't you just leave it at that?" the blacksmith countered as he crossed the room, leaning his hands upon the table as his gaze looked out upon the rather peaceful spring night  
  
"Is that a rhetorical question?"  
  
"Leave me be, Jack. I've accepted my course in life."  
  
"Well that is a fool thing to believe, Will Turner. The course is ne'er set. . . it changes just like the wind. You still tryin' to deny the sea longin' in your blood, lad?"  
  
"I'm not a pirate, Jack," Will warned, hardly in the mood to listen to this same argument he had heard many times from this man.  
  
"We bloody back to this again, mate? You can take the blood outta a pirate but you can't take the pirate outta the blood. It's part of you, livin' and breathin' inside you," Jack reasoned with conviction, his words punctuated with wild hand movements.  
  
Grinding his teeth, Will all but spat in disgust, "Spare me your skewed logic. I am *not* my father. His mistakes are not mine to make."  
  
Jack's eyes narrowed to slits at the utter stubbornness of this young man that was too afraid to admit his true desires, "Mistakes, you say? You seemed to be followin' right along in your father's footsteps on our last little adventure. And without a second thought, I might add."  
  
The boy began to pace agitatedly, his hand raking through his hair, "That was different. Then the cause justified the means. I was a fool, but you need not fear for I learned my lesson well. It will not happen again for my senses are clear."  
  
"So you plan to hide here like a blasted coward then?"  
  
"I am not a coward, Jack!"  
  
The vehemence in Will's words did not impress Jack, whose voice took on a new quality of gravity, "I had not thought so either. But hidin' from yourself is nothin' more than fear."  
  
"You know nothing! Do not presume otherwise!"  
  
"I know more than you can possibly imagine, lad. I may delve into hypocrisy every now and then, but even a swindler like me knows when to listen to his instincts. You're happy forgoin' the sea, you say? Is that why when I first found you, you were starin' off at her with longin' in your eyes?"  
  
Stiffening, Will clenched his hands into fists, bitterness welling within him, "The longing in my eyes, or that in my heart, is none of your concern, Jack Sparrow. *I* will decide whose instincts to follow and what is or isn't to be done. Savvy?"  
  
"Whatever you say, mate."  
  
Unable to withstand the patronizing smirk or blasé stance, the young man turned away abruptly, storming from the room and muttering about getting some fresh air. Jack watched him go, cloaked in his denial, and shook his head. There was one mention in Will's avowal that caused him pause, however.  
  
*Or that in my heart* What longing lay within the young man's heart? Simply for the swell of the sea? For the life he was always meant to lead? Or for something more?  
  
Indeed, his *course* remained unchanged, after all, his hunger for Will seemingly had become inexhaustible and could only be quenched by the sweet taste of success.  
  
"You forgot one important thing, luv. . . I'm Captain Jack Sparrow," he murmured with a self-assured smile.  
  
Oh yes, greed was without a doubt a powerful motivator.  
  
Humming delightfully to himself, he pulled out the half-full flask he had found earlier in Will's desk and climbed through the window. Taking a long swallow, Jack looked upon the stars and reflected upon his rather good fortune of late.  
  
Yet, it soon became apparent that his luck had just run out as a bloodcurdling scream split the night air.  
  
TBC. . . 


End file.
